Building Pressure
by daniellemcfarlane
Summary: C/H continues from my previous story. You can only clash so many times before you slide together.
1. chapter 1

A/N: glowing from my first review on my previous story I figured I would jump right in to this one. It picks up a few months from where Transparent Curtain ends. The idea for the story is mine. The characters are not.

Building Pressure

The soft material of the baby blue dress tickled her legs in the warm afternoon breeze. The skin of her back lay mostly exposed and goosebumps rose to its otherwise smooth surface. To someone on the outside it would look like a leisurely afternoon. To Clarice it held only the tension of another failed attempt.

For 3 months she had held her tongue, content she alone had made the choice to walk along beside him. If the boys at the bureau saw her now they would jump at the chance to blame him for her choice. She had no doubt it had been one only she alone had made. For that she felt pride, something she had not felt for way too long.

Over the weeks it's glow slowly diminished and now here she stood. Holding her tongue had been easy at first. One didn't have to try hard to get lost in his world of constant finery for almost every sense. Too bad the emotional one was so greatly lacking, she thought.

She had gone to his operas, ate his fine meals, wore all the fancy clothes he provided her with, and yet she saw it only for what it was. The knowledge it was meant to keep her from looking too deeply at him sucked any enjoyment she could have gained from it. For those ninety days she had allowed herself to be his ghost. When she woke up this morning she had decided enough was enough.

Like any other day she had made her way downstairs for breakfast. They did not share a room. Sometimes it felt like the only thing they shared was the air they took in to their lungs. How many mornings in the past months had she woken up in different places? No matter the location she always wanted the same thing, to see his eyes again, so close to her face and clear for her to get lost in. All her wanting never changed her reality of only the walls every morning and she could no longer hold on to this emptiness.

As always he was seated at the breakfast nook, a coffee in his hand. Like every other morning her orange juice and a cup of her own coffee sat across from him. Had this been his idea of domesticity? A blur of shows, wine, and time shared by two people who had really shared nothing? She couldn't do it any more and she felt close to bursting from the weight of it.

Had he seen the change in her? Of course he had, to him she always felt like a open book. What he had seen in her had to be the cause of the tension she felt rolling off him in waves. His hands, normally so still made instruments of his cup and the counter.

"Did you sleep well my dear?" Always the same question. Always the same answer. Not today she reminded herself and set her now empty juice glass on the counter with a soft clink. If she had paid it any mind she would have realized the sound had really been his defences clicking in to place.

"No." Her response had tumbled out of her unpolished and raw. Perhaps he would look up now and remove his eyes from the contents of his mug. Of course not, it was too telling of a response. She did catch a glimpse of a tightening jaw. Was he angry she wasn't willing to play house any longer?

"Are the lambs screaming again Clarice?" He had drawn out her name as if to taunt. She felt her face grow hot with anger and shame. Why did he toss her pain at her just to protect himself?

"No Doctor they are not, are yours?" She could do a challenge; the thrill of it had to be better then the emptiness she felt. Eagerly she waited for him to take the bait. He did not.

When his cup slammed down on the counter she jumped as if he had struck her. She trembled under the cold she felt directed at her from his eyes. Guilt made her stomach turn. Was she like him now? Was she the type to throw his vulnerability in his face to amuse herself? Tears slid down her cheeks as she stumbled for words to fix her mistake.

"I got angry. Please, I'm so tired of this..."

When he jumped up from the chair she choked on her words. Here he wasn't graceful, here he was hurt and she hated herself in that moment for causing it. Opening her mouth to try again she sucked in a shuddering breath. He didn't allow her any time to respond however.

"Tired are we now?" Was it possible for someone to hurt you with their eyes? In this moment she thought it so. "Far be it for me to bore you my dear. Perhaps leaving is for the best hmm? Wounds must not be allowed to fester, or we risk having to amputate."

Was he kicking her out? Blood swelled from the indents her nails had left in her palm. Could he smell the blood? Did he even care? The sound of a piano was her only answer. She wished her body could be the keys he touched so gently. If only his hands would seek her skin for comfort, instead of the cold ivory. The music suffocated her and she went outside for some air. Hours later it was here she remained.

Why did she ask about Mischa? She should have known better but she had stupidly let her anger control her. Resting her forehead against the cool of the railing she let go of the pain. She sobbed so hard her frame shook from the force of it. The now silent piano went unnoticed as Clarice cried her heart out.


	2. 2

A/N I'm so caught up in this story I'm writing it from in a airplane! I only own the idea. Please review.

Part of her hoped he would stop her when she came back in before she reached the front door. Silence clung to the house like the guilt that clung to her spirit and she walked out before her scent had left the room.

These streets they had wandered so many times before felt suddenly bare. All the greenery, all the charm of the little shops, she passed it all by with unseeing eyes. Muscle memory was the cause for where she stood now.

He had said gelato would be fitting given their location. She had agreed but secretly she would always prefer ice cream. She found his option too sweet and thick, it made her throat feel clogged like blood, like the tears she choked back. Why the fuck couldn't he just give a little?

Needing something she could get lost in she made her way to a club. What better than music? The loud obnoxious kind he wouldn't be caught dead listening to. A hint of a smile ghosted across her lips. She had kept herself so defined for him in hopes it would bring him closer. Clearly it had not. Now it was time to dance.

Oh it was juvenile to sway her hips and stretch her hands in the air. The calm it gave her was worth the regression however and she danced on. Her skin crackled with the feel of eyes on her. Not his, that would have stilled the room. Looking over her shoulder she shook her head firmly at the over interested man. Remembering a time with bars between them when the Doctor asked if she had ever felt eyes on her skin made her stop dancing. Feeling the eyes now was easy. Knowing they were not his, was not.

Sitting at a table she caught the servers attention and ordered a glass of water. Acting like a teenager was one thing. Coming back home smelling like one was another. Could she call it home now? Was she welcome there? She didn't glance at her water as she raised it to her lips.

After a few minutes more the music became too loud and the crowd too thick. This had been a terrible idea. Feeling the room shift around her, she wished it was the piano in her ears and not this thumping base line. Something was wrong. Water should not make her feel this way. Fuck! Had someone spiked her drink? This was bad.

Panic came then. Swallowing it down she stood up on legs that were already too unsteady. Catching the table with her hand she registered movement in the corner of her vision. The man from before was approaching.

Cold air on her skin. How had she gotten outside. Hannibal, his name in her mind. Hope swelled inside of her but was extinguished when she felt hands on her. Rough and urgent pulling up her dress. A slurred voice in her ear and unwelcome warmth pressing up against her exposed skin.

A switch flicked then and she turned on the fool. Fury was unleashed she hadn't known she possessed until it was too late. Blood on her hands. Blood on the dress. Were his eyes stuck to her fingernails? Gagging in horror she pulled herself back. Something that might have been a whimper or a sob or both escaped her mouth. It mingled with the sprawled mans cries of agony at her feet.

Hannibal's ears picked up her sound easily from where he had been looking for her. It filled him with dread. Unexpected thoughts of Mischa haunted him as he ran to where she was. All thoughts of his sister halted when he saw Clarice covered in blood with a man at her feet.

Now he was there. After she gouged a man's eyes out. Oh god, she couldn't breathe. Would he kill him in front of her? Make her devour his flesh with him? Oh god. Oh god! Breath hitching in her throat, she felt herself falling.

Hands this time, ones she knew broke her fall. Why were they not breaking this man's neck? Oh god. If he killed it would be her fault if it led to his capture. Shaking, a sob broke from her lungs full of fear.

Had he thought it was fear towards him? His hands left her then as if she had burnt him. He only touched her dress now as he pulled it back down. There was the pain in his eyes again. She shook her head to correct him but he was no longer looking at her. He had turned his attention to the man on the ground.

"Don't," it came from her lips a whisper. She flinched when she heard the mans neck snap. The silence that followed was worse then any sound; be it lamb or man could ever make.

One foot in front of another took them back to the house. When he opened the door he did not enter. Was he waiting for her to do so? Did she deserve to do so? She had hurt him and now put his freedom at risk.

The voice that interrupted her thoughts was different. "Clarice, come inside now."

Was this where he said something about not drawing any more attention? The request ended without words but with his hand on her arm. Was he pulling lightly? More insistent now and a flash of something in his eyes. Had his voice wavered?

"Clarice, inside." Letting him pull her in felt like a odd dance. The detachment from the situation at hand only allowed her mind to register this briefly before panic once again took over. What had she done? What had he done? Again her breath came to fast and she couldn't catch it.

Suddenly his eyes were close. Fingers on her cheeks wiping something off. Was it blood or tears? From how his fingers ran over her cheek he didn't seem to care either way.


	3. 3

A/N: I only own the idea

Fingers continued to run over her cheek. They skirted her jaw line. Was he checking for fractures? Lips started to part in relaxation. Why was he pinching them shut? What was this darkness in his eyes?

"Keep them closed my dear or you will discover another taste of mine." She shuddered as his fingers wiped the blood from her lips. How could those hands be so gentle and strong at the same time? Her breathing had returned to normal. His hands fell away along with his eyes.

"Are you all right?" So softly it was no more then a whisper.

When she opened her mouth she had meant for words to come out, not a laugh. It caught hold of her then and she gasped through between her giggles.

"I think he wanted to stick himself inside me. I sure showed him. Haha!" Tears mingled with her giggles that strangely sounded like sobs.

Iron fingers gripped her shoulders and shook her once, twice. Her teeth clicked from the jolt of it. Her sounds stopped. In his mind they played on like a broken record.

"Nothing here is funny," his words were a low growl. Anger was safe for him. Counting to 10 she blew out a breath and met his eyes. Of course he looked down.

"Don't worry Doctor. If he had his way with me my face wouldn't be the only part on my body covered in blood."

Could you give yourself whip lash if you looked up to quickly? The doctor was certainly eager to find out, she thought as his head snapped up. Crossing her arms she went on ignoring his surprise. He would most likely bite back for it later with some kind of scathing remark.

"Is this where you tell me my virginity explains my childish behaviour to dance? Maybe you tie it to my daddy somehow? Are you going to tell me now how foolish I am?" Bracing herself for his verbal jabs she glared at him.

"I will tell you you're a fool yes," his hands came up to his face then blocking her view. "You're a fool for crying your heart out on that deck alone. You're a fool for not paying attention to your surroundings. You're a fool for thinking you could stop me from ending that man's life after what he tried to do." He was shaking now. Trembles so pronounced his hands hardly hid his face any more. "Your a fool for pressing and pressing about my little sister."

Had she gasped or had he. Colour drained from his face and he moved away from her as if she were the threat. Little sister? Mischa was his sister? What had happened to her to hurt him so. Part of her didn't want to know.

Slowly she approached him. It looked as though both of them had shared secrets in this storm. "Will you look at me?" Her words sounded like a plea, not like the comfort she had intended them to be. His eyes did not move from where they stared blankly.

Sticky with another man's blood she sat beside him. "Hannibal, I'm ok. I messed up, again and I'm sorry. I didn't want you to kill him because now we can't stay here. It doesn't matter. The location isn't nearly as important as the company." His head shook slowly. Did he no longer want her company? Had he really meant for her to leave? Shame made her skin tingle.

"I should not have let you go. I should have attempted to talk to you instead of listening to you fall apart. I believe, my dear, your sobs have added yet another soundtrack to accompany my sisters cries in my darkest dreams."

That cut her deeply. No more pain from her, he didn't need any more. Shudders that were not her own ran through her as she wrapped her arms around him. His face pressed in to her hair where she could not find his eyes.

"What if he had, as you say, had his way with you? What if you retreated into yourself so deeply away from me that I couldn't bring you back? I can't..."

She squeezed him hard. Keeping her words soft she spoke her reply. "Do you mean how you retreat from me?" No answer was needed from him. The hitch in his breath was enough. Reaching for his face with her hand she squeaked in horror.

When he looked at her hand he understood the sound. Under her nails were bits of the idiot's eyes. Pulling her up gently by the wrist, he led her to a sink.

It was something like detached fascination as she watched what was left of the man's flesh slip down the drain. It was only when her hands were clean and dry that what had happened caught up with her. Never one to miss a beat his hands held back her hair while she vomited up her water and orange juice from that morning. It burnt.

When she had finished she stared despondently at herself in the mirror. Reflected beside her she watched as his mask of calm once again found its place. Sighing she stepped away from the glass.

When he spoke it was unexpected and hard. "Perhaps some time apart would do us some good hmm?"

The force of her against him made him stagger slightly. "No! Don't you dare do that now Hannibal Lecter! You will have to knock me out if you plan on leaving without me beside you!"

For the briefest of moments she thought he would as his hand lifted to her face. Instead though he only cupped her cheek. Had she felt a tremor in his fingers. Reaching out she allowed herself to finally touch his face. Instead of harden; his eyes softened and drank her in.

Was it the action of fingertips so gently pressed to skin that served as a tether to ground their turbulent spirits? As they looked in to each other for the first time with nothing between them they stood in the calm of the storm their revolutions had created.


	4. 4

A/N: I only own the idea

While the spirit can be held captive for many lifetimes when it comes to love, Hannibal only knew brief flashes. Clarice, more receptive to it immediately felt the ache in her soul when his fingers left her face. Perhaps if she has dabbled more in less professional relations with others her body would have reached out to him in order to keep him close. Inexperience stilled her hand however, and she only was able to reach out with her eyes as he stepped back.

With his touch no longer a distraction, her mind began to race. The weight of frantic thoughts became too much for her. Wishing she could handle them better, she broke eye contact. Turning away she walked to a chair and dropped in to it. The weariness in her bones, as well as guilt and anxiety had aided gravity as it pulled her down.

The breath she had drawn in to calm herself was tainted by the coppery smell of blood. It stuck inside her and she could not release it. Had she helped kill that man? What if her actions led to them getting caught? No more bars. No more glass. Fear made her breaths come out of her in shotgun bursts.

"Self defence," he spoke the two words as if they were a talisman for her to wield. "With what he was trying to do to you, what would the other option have been? Rest assured, my dear, you are nothing like me."

Her eyes lifted seeking his face. "Would you still want me if I were?" Pounding began in her temples. Keeping her eyes level she continued. "When he screamed, when I stopped him with my own hands, I felt something. I got lost in the act and now they have a body to track you. Loosing you now scares me more then losing myself."

Once again he was close to her. Breath warmed her cold skin between his words as he shook his head. "I would not." His eyes burnt her skin as he continued to speak. "The world is a better place with you in it just as you are. Do not let your thoughts run wild over a chemical response to danger Clarice. Remember, my dear, you asked me to stop before I broke his neck. Had you been close to anything like me he would have already been dead before I laid a finger on him. Put your mind at ease. I am not so easily caught. The world is a big place. If you lose yourself I will no longer have my window from which to view it."

Words were always so easy for him. They calmed her mind almost as effectively as his touch. Finding the meaning in them was difficult when her mind was so prone to overthinking them however.

"I wish I could look through your window." She lowered her head. "I feel like I keep getting lost every time I think I've found it. I just want to know your mind the way you know mine." Her cheeks flushed as she continued, "I want to know your touch the way the other..." she stumbled for a word to use for the company he had kept.

When his fingers captured the few strands of her hair that had escaped from its place behind her ear she stopped searching. A gentle tug of those same strands made her eyes once again find his. "You burn so bright when you're brave Clarice. While your body wants my touch, your spirit wants the rest. You, my dear, are all consuming. I am unaccustomed to being devoured. Rest assured that while others have shared my bed you are the only one who has shared my life."

"Would it help?" Her words came out a squeak, "if I shared your bed?"

A clenched jaw had not been the response she was looking for. Lowering her eyes to her hands she began to twist her fingers.

A soft touch lifted her chin even though his eyes were hard to her. "You're not a tool Clarice! I say no to you now. Realize it's not a easy refusal. Understand me when I tell you it's not a rejection. Curiosity killed the cat my dear. Do you think I am immune to wanting you? Does it make you insecure? Listen when I tell you it's not a lack of desire that stills my hand, but a lack of knowledge. Taking you to bed would be easy, giving you the rest is difficult. Let me try. Tonight has shown me I am not yet able to be the cause of your pain or blood shed. Perhaps when I am able to tell you about my past you will understand why I hesitate. "

While he spoke his eyes had held her's. When he lowered them she realized he was afraid. Here was a man who had killed just as many people as he had charmed and he was looking at her as if she were the threat.

"You're probably thinking I should make an attempt at a answer huh?" She was rewarded with a ghost of a smile. "I told you I would walk beside you. I guess sometimes my eagerness makes me run too fast. I'm sorry I push so hard."

How many times would he shake his head at her today? "Do not apologize for wanting the least you deserve. Push gently, do so knowing I am not easily guided." He tucked the hair he had pulled moments before behind her ear.

Shifting in the chair she became aware that she still wore the soiled dress. "I think I should get this off now before the blood hardens any more then it already has."

Had his eyes darkened again? Was that how desire looked? She shuddered as the realization that he had looked at her like that before settled over her.


	5. 5

A/N:I'm in Mexico, staying at a resort, and I literally can not stop writing this! Please R and R. I hope you are as taken with this story as I am.

The ache Hannibal felt as he watched Clarice leave the room to change was new to him. Never had he before allowed for himself to want for anything. Unsurprisingly his mind palace hummed with her presence. This was how her hair smelt, here was the softness of her skin. The smell of lavender wafted down to him as the sound of a shower registered. Was she using her hands to wash off the blood? Likely not as her fingers would probably shy away from it. Briefly he allowed his hands to do it for her in his mind. Daydreams were a welcome distraction, but he only allowed himself a brief escape before he turned back to the reality at hand. Satisfaction would have to be achieved through food for now. This he controlled well.

Stepping from the shower she wrapped herself in a towel. The skin it covered was flushed pink from the heat of the water and blood that flowed through her veins. As the wash cloth had removed the remnants of the blood from her skin she had allowed herself to pretend it had been him doing so. Would he have used his hands or his tongue? Easy girl. She calmed her thoughts as she roughly towelled off her hair. The smell of cooking meat greeted her as she took in a deep breath. Realizing she had not eaten all day she hurried to her room to dress.

Looking at all the clothes he had provided her with always left her feeling overwhelmed. How did one guess what would be pleasing to someone's eyes who had seen far more beauty then she could ever bring to a room? Today had been draining on multiple levels and she wasn't up for the challenge of making herself presentable. Picking out a simple pair of sweatpants and a fitted shirt she pulled the clothes over her skin. Her eyes had refused to meet her reflection. Visual confirmation was not needed to confirm the marks the man had left on her skin however. As she slid the shirt over her body the tenderness told her more then a mirror ever could.

A soft knock at her door broke her free from her thoughts. Crossing the room she opened it. What is an acceptable greeting when someone is devouring you with their eyes. None came to her as she allowed a breath to escape from between her lips.

"Are you hungry my dear?" His eyes were taking in her unbrushed hair. They had lingered on the marks on her skin. Slowly they met her own. Briefly she thought perhaps the question in them had not been about food but something deeper.

Had she been too slow to answer? Another question was directed at her. "Are you all right?" He had already asked her this before. Did she look worse now. Still unable to find words she simply nodded her head.

The click of his tongue signified his displeasure with her response. Why could she never leave him searching for what to say? When he moved behind her forming a answer was forgotten. When his hands rested lightly over the bruises the man had left on her skin it ached for a entirely different reason. Soft pressure as he squeezed her waist. The slightest pull pressed her back to his chest.

A breath against her ear carried his words. She shuddered against him as she felt it slide over her skin. "His marks will fade. If however they did not, you would still be my favourite view." Moving his hands to her hair he began to comb his fingers through it. "Simplicity looks ravishing on you, it's a look you can accomplish without your hair having to pay the price though. Allowing her eyes to close she took comfort in his closeness as he brushed her hair. "I made you a meal as I'm sure you're hungry. You have not eaten all day. I would like to talk to you about where we will be heading when you eat." Was it difficult for him to step back from her in that moment? No time was allowed for her to voice her question as he left the room and headed down to where the meal waited for her. Touching her hair where his fingers had been moments before she followed behind him. Her stomach grumbled in anticipation..

The other women probably would have eaten slowly, peppering the meal with flirtatious gestures she did not know. When she saw the chicken breast resting on top of the salad she only paused to grab her fork before she inhaled it. When he set a glass of white wine down on the table she remembered who she was eating in front of and turned red with embarrassment.

His eyes gave nothing away but she had the feeling he was laughing at her on the inside. "Did you taste my efforts?" Was he making fun of her? "I told you that you were hungry. Remember my dear, the glass is not edible." Did he just make a joke? Picking up her wine she took a sip, using the time it provided her to recover.

"If you're quite done pointing out my impeccable table manners, I believe you said we needed to talk about where we are going?"

A smile now, although be it a tentative one. "If you're up to the journey I would like to show you what's left of where I grew up. I could tell you everything in words and see it clearly in my mind. I know you can not do the same. Is this enough to satisfy parts of your curiosity?"

Asking loaded questions when someone was mid drink was not fair she thought, as she choked on her wine. Beat red again she spluttered out a reply. "Where you, where you grew up? Where did you? Yes."

A chuckle came from him then. Seeing you flounder is exquisite my dear. I am glad my plan is agreeable to you. We will leave in the morning. If your able, try to sleep as we have a long journey ahead of us."

Excitement was the cause for the glow in her face although the wine probably enhanced it. Raising the glass she extended it to him. "I can hardly wait." The gentle clink of their glasses echoed through the halls of Hannibal's mind as he gazed upon the woman seated across from him.


	6. 6

A/N: I only own the idea

"Mischa!"

High and shrill the sound of Hannibal's cry woke Clarice in the early morning hours. When he had told her to get some sleep she had hoped he would have done the same. Another sharp cry confirmed he was doing quite the opposite. In that moment she felt she knew him deeply. No stranger to bad dreams herself, she sympathized with him in a way she guessed not many could. The last time she had went to him while he was caught in one of these nightmares had been jarring, to say the least. Unable to listen to his anguish any more she put her feet to the ground. This time she would wake him from a distance.

As she approached his closed door the sounds of tossing and turning grew more audible. In her chest, her heart picked up its pace. Was it mirroring the anxiety the unsettling thoughts were causing him? As she called out his name from behind the door she realized she felt tears forming in her eyes. Longing to end his suffering she knocked on the door in frustration, tears now spilling down her cheeks. Loving someone who hurt so badly was excruciating when you could not ease their pain. Wiping her eyes she let out the breath she had been holding noticing the movement from him had stopped. Perhaps if he let her close enough they could both sleep soundly for a few hours before they left.

Realization hit her then and she drew in a shuddering breath. Had she caused these dreams? Had all her pushing and pulling to know him more dragged it all back? Guilt flooded her as new tears fell. Occupied with her thoughts she had not heard him get out of bed. When the door opened she didn't have time to put herself together. Mentally she scolded herself for not listening better.

"Clarice, what happened? Did I wake you?" Words came slow to him then as he looked at the crying woman in front of him. Tousled from sleep her hair was an untamed creature surrounding her face. Cheeks wet with tears below eyes filled with anguish. Here she was a haunting vision, much like the one that had invaded his dreams.

"You, you were having another nightmare," her words were thick with tears. "I tried to wake you, and I, this is my fault. I'm so sorry!" Remorse made her anguish palpable. Hannibal longed to pluck it from her much like popping a bubble. His mind flashed to Mischa as soap slipped through her chubby fingers, laughing. Holding on to the sound for courage, he shook his head.

"Your fault? Tell me my dear, what is it you think you have done? While seeing you in distress like this pains me, i highly doubt that is the cause of your apology." Unable to watch her struggle so he pulled her against him, she could answer later. In this one situation what she had to say was irrelevant as she was wrong. Lack of knowledge about his past made her vulnerable to self doubt.

Stroking her hair he continued, not allowing room for her reply. "Asking me questions is not the cause for my dreams Clarice. As eager as you are to control some things, those you can not. That mind of yours is both a blessing and a curse I see. How best can i silence it for you to prevent any more incorrect notions? Your tears are like acid, they leave me burning."

In his arms she regained her composure. He was right, as he often was. It was silly for her to blame herself, but in his pain she lost her common sense. What had she been thinking before she allowed the blame game to distract her? As she remembered her original idea her cheeks grew hot. Wiping her eyes again she stepped back, wishing she could see his face without having to leave the comfort of his arms. Every time she attempted to comfort him he ended up doing it for her. In that moment she made a silent vow to change that.

The air seemed to change around her, Hannibal noted. When she wiped the tears from her skin it looked as if she removed her hesitancy as well. Would he never completely know her? With her he would constantly be left guessing. Thrilling, a life beside her would be nothing less.

"We don't have to go," her words removed him from his thoughts. "I know I've pushed and I don't think I can see you like..."

"Come now Clarice, don't shy away from me now when your so close to getting what you want. You have started this and will follow it through with me."

Well at least he wasn't comforting her, she thought. "You can tell me, it will be enough." In that moment she realized she was afraid to see him exposed.

"Perhaps for you it would be, for me it will not. you will not accept any less than all of me. In order to give you what you want I need to show you."

Frustration made her jaw clench. "I can't watch you suffer and be kept at a arms distance. I know i can't fix it but it is agony to watch." Again her voice wavered with emotion. Annoyed with herself she choked it down. "I want to help, not look in from the side!"

When he started to pace she knew she had frustrated him. Just once she would like to get her point across properly without making things worse.

"What side? I am taking you where I grew up, you know about my unconventional lifestyle, what more can I give?"

Throwing her hands up she responded louder then she had meant to. "You! It's like you're telling a story. No detail will be missed but it's all still the same. It's all distractions to keep me at a distance. I will not go with you if you will not allow me to get closer!"

Why were his eyes going dark? Had she said something unintentionally enticing? Frantically she replayed her words in her mind.

"Are you really so unaware as to how you effect me still?" While her words had came out loud and angry, his came out barely a whisper. "If I bring you closer I think I will get lost in you. Have you even thought how you look to me now, all warm from your bed and delightfully flushed with that temper of yours. I have limits Clarice, you're so eager to see my past but forget that I stand before you here a man."

The constant motion made her uneasy. Stepping in front of him she blocked his path. With dark eyes he went to move around her. Reaching out she caught his arm. "Hannibal, stop." He stilled. Why wouldn't he just listen?

Suddenly he was moving again, breaking her hold. Why was he moving closer? Hands on her arms now, a shaky inhale of breath. Had it came from him or her? A wall met her back, she hadn't noticed they had been moving. Still he moved closer. Was he angry?

"Close enough my dear?" His words came out a hiss. From against the wall her body screamed for more. Unable to find her words she shook her head. Why did he appear to be surprised? Did he think he could frighten her?

Again he had frozen, appearing to balance on the edge of a precipice . As she leaned up to capture his lips, he had not the strength or will power to hold on any more. When her tongue, gentle and warm, pressed in to his mouth, Hannibal let himself fall.

Breathing was not nearly as enjoyable as his mouth, she thought as she broke the kiss. Hannibal's eyes bore in to her as she attempted to regain her composure.

"You will be my undoing," his voice shook slightly. "I can't say no to you. If closer is what you need, do as you will. Your persistence is greater then the amount of resistance I have."

Why did he look defeated? Was it such a loss for him to let her near? Remembering the conversation from the day before she thought she understood. Paying close attention to him she walked over to his bed. How many nights had she laid awake in her own wishing she were here?

Did he look at her with fear in his eyes as she settled under the covers. Laying still she waited for him to move. He did not. Blowing out a frustrated breath she sat up. "Hannibal, come back to bed."

When she saw him tremble she knew her hunch had been right. It appeared she wanted way more in his eyes then she really did. When his eyes found hers, they were hesitant.

"Clarice..." he had said her name like a plea. In his mind bubbles floated and popped.

"Come to bed Hannibal. I don't want to wake up in another room any more. I don't want to come to you down the hall when you have a nightmare. Let me try to help. I know I'm being childish, I'm probably being selfish too. But for so long I've wanted to know how this would feel. Please, come to bed. I promise I won't ask for more. If you want to keep me held at a distance all day long I'll let you. Just please let us find each other in this bed every night." Her words hung in the air and she blushed. "In this bed to sleep, I just mean sleep."

With tentative steps he approached her. Watching her stammer over her words allowed him time to calm his mind. Trust did not come easily to him. If he were going to satisfy Clarice however, he would have to try. Lowering himself to the bed he lay down beside her. When she moved closer he fought the urge to roll her on to her back.

"Why does it bother you?" Her words were a murmur against his pillow. "This is the part you know isn't it? With all the other..."

When his arm pulled her against him she let her words trail off. Pressing his face to her hair he inhaled deeply before responding, letting her scent calm him.

"They never stayed," his words were a whisper. Against her arm his fingers painted gentle lines. "This is new for us both. I will remember when we are in Lithuania to make sure our accommodations ensure that you do."

Nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder she smiled. "Thank you," her words were fuzzy as sleep started to take her.

As his fingers moved to her hair, Hannibal thought that he should be the one thanking her.


	7. 7

A/N: I only own the idea

The first thing Clarice felt when she woke up was warmth. While they had slept, Hannibal had pulled her snug against his body. Trying to keep her breathing slow so as not to wake him, she allowed herself to absorb his closeness. With his heartbeat against her back, she let herself get lost in the rise and fall of his shallow exhalations. If only she could turn enough to see his face at rest.

Hannibal woke slowly, first to the feel of her against him, then to the scent of her skin. Though he kept his eyes closed, he knew Clarice was awake from the change in her breath and heartbeat. Curiosity as he felt her move slightly against him. Briefly he entertained the idea of her hands exploring his body. The thought was dismissed as quickly as it had surfaced however. Shyness would still her hand, of this he was sure.

Somehow he was still asleep when her eyes found his face. With a aching hunger, she drank in the man before her. Sleep left his face soft in a way she had not seen it before. Tingling with want her fingers longed to brush his cheek. Remembering her promise from the night before she kept her hands where they were. This would have to be enough. As she watched him sleep she knew then that nothing ever would be. If it were possible to do so, she would have absorbed him in to her very soul, so as to know him. Silently she devoured him with her eyes instead.

Perhaps she should have lowered the intensity of her gaze when he opened his eyes. When she saw them for the first time upon his waking up, she found it out of her control. As she took him in then, soft and unguarded from sleep, her lips formed words before she could stop them.

"Hannibal," her hand moved on its own accord to touch him but she realized and held it still, "do you feel eyes moving over your body?" Her hand shook slightly, but still she did not move it. Eyes dark with want that she would not act upon, she continued, her voice full of need: "Do you know what I want?"

When he licked his lips she lost her courage and ducked her head, turning red. How eager she was to jump, and yet how quickly she froze when her toe touched the water. Watching her squirm would be worth pushing his limits for, he thought as he grabbed the hand that she had fought so hard to hold back. When she squeaked in surprise as he pulled her closer he couldn't contain the chuckle that escaped him.

"Perhaps you should show me," his eyes sparkled with his words, he knew she would do no such thing. When he pulled her down on top of him the small moan that escaped her made his blood boil. Slowly, so as not to startle her he raised his hips. Sparks flew in his eyes when they met in the middle. Cupping her face with his hand he spoke softly, the game forgotten. "This should make it very clear to you what I want, my dear." The shudder that ran through her also ran through him.

It was easy to get lost in how good he felt. If she let things continue like this she would be letting him down, however. When she had pushed herself in to his bed she believed it was with the unspoken rule to behave until at least after she knew about what happened to his sister. Squirming away from him she hoped she was right as rejecting Hannibal was not a easy thing to do.

From the doorway of his bedroom she looked at him. He still remained where she had jumped off of him. Voice not quite back to normal she met his eyes. "I'm going to go get ready to go. Do I need to bring anything?"

From where he lay on the bed he could still smell her excitement. Inhaling deeply he shook his head. When she had turned and left the room he finally released the breath he had been holding. Clarice might not be the most confidant with her touch, but with her words she made him ache for her the same.

With her body still humming from his hands she made her way to her room to get ready. Was this how loving him would feel? A blur of touch and ache and need that blocked out everything but the two of them? Would he be gentle? Would she care if he wasn't? Shuddering she quickly changed. There were more important things happening here then her fantasies. Going back to where he grew up would be hard for him and he would need her comfort, not her body. Making her way downstairs she ignored the voice in her head that said why not have both?

A glass of orange juice and a cup of coffee waited for her, like so many mornings before. Picking up her juice she felt a strange mix of emotions. They would not return here. Even though he had not told her, she knew this. Here was a new body, here was a chance for capture. That chance alone made her glad to leave. Still, this place held many things for her. most importantly the night he stopped resisting.

From across the table she could feel him watching her. Was he unsettled? Did she do something wrong?

"Is everything ok?" He asked the question first. Did his eyes show uncertainty? Was he worried about how he had grabbed her? If she had it her way she would have wanted him to not let go. She found it interesting that at times he appeared to second guess himself just as much as she did.

Smiling from across the table she hoped to set his mind at ease. "Everything is fine. I woke up beside you and you, um, felt nice..." her cheeks burned as she struggled to speak. "I'm ok, it was, I wanted..." frustrated with her inability to form sentences, she ran her hands through her hair. When she saw he was grinning at her she stopped. "I'm glad my babbling eased your doubts." When their eyes met she knew he was thankful as well.


	8. 8

A/N: I only own the idea

The house they had shared was left behind them as they headed for the airport. Traveling always made her nervous as anxiety would make her mind run wild. What if this were their last car ride together? What if, when they landed, someone was waiting to take him away from her. This time she knew he wouldn't be put in a cell. This time he would end up in the ground. Shuddering from the thought she tried to focus on the road ahead of her. He had said the flight would be a few hours. Once they landed and were driving again she would feel better.

The touch of his hand roused her from her thoughts. "Nothing to worry about, by dear. Best not let your imagination carry you away when we have not yet left the ground hmm." Reassuringly he squeezed her hand. "Be at ease," his voice reflected the calm she wished she could feel.

As the airport came in to view she took a couple of deep breaths to calm her nerves. These were the parts she hated. Would they ever be aloud to just exist together without having to run. When she glanced over at him briefly she knew there was no other person in the world she would rather be beside, regardless if it were running or standing still.

Like he so often was he had been right. With little effort they boarded their flight. As the plane left the runway she allowed herself to relax a little bit. Where would they stand with one another after this was all finished? Would he be able to accept her love? Would he be able to love her in return? His voice, as it often did, roused her from her thoughts.

"Always so deep in your own mind. Do I occupy a space in it? How much, do you think, you take up in mine?"

What a question. Wasn't it obvious? If he was willing to give her so much, the least she could do is answer him truthfully. "Always." A single word made no room for doubt.

"All good things I hope?" His eyes found hers and held her gaze. When she nodded he gently touched her cheek. "Where we are going, it will not look the same now as it did when I was young. I will paint you a picture in your mind if you like. If that is not enough, later I can sketch you a picture from memory."

Surprised he was jumping in to things so fast she looked over at him. Did he think she would close her eyes while he filled her mind with images of his past? Did he think she would allow him to distract her from him with his words while he fell apart while she viewed his home from behind closed eyes? Shaking her head she chose her words with care. "I want nothing more then to drift on your voice when you paint me a mental picture. For this though, I intend to keep my eyes open. I won't float away on your words, not when I want to stay here with you. I know what your trying to do, it won't work. I want to see you, you can't really think I'll let you hypnotize me so I won't, do you?"

When he didn't answer her she wondered if she had said the wrong thing again. Sighing she took his hand in hers. "I can't get lost in your words when I need to be here, it's just another way to keep me at arms length. I told you I wouldn't push for more, and I won't. If you want to capture me with that voice of yours and glaze me over while you try to cope with this alone, fine. Just know that at night, when we go to sleep I will fight to snap out of it and try to find you. I will always try to find you." Pulling her hand out of his she rested it in her lap. She had to stay true to her word, even if it was counter productive.

How could she claim not to know him yet see him so clearly. Hannibal was undecided as to weather he felt pride or agitation in this moment. She had called him out with such accuracy it made him uneasy, then surprisingly he felt remorse. This was a emotion he was not accustomed to feeling. Sighing he attempted to fix the damage he caused. "You're far to observant for someone who claims not to know me. You're right, I hoped you would let me whisk you away, and yes, you're also right it won't help. Exposure is something I struggle with. More then that though, the idea of going back there when there is nothing, it makes me uneasy. The idea of letting you see me like this, it's difficult for me."

Picking her nails in agitation she replied. "So you planned to what? Turn me in to some sort of zombie to avoid letting me see you? I've done so much, and I thought the other night when you let me sleep with you that you were finally starting to trust me..." her words trailed off as she felt her eyes begin filling with tears. "Fucking emotions! Just once i wish I could be like you! I'm tired of being scraped raw for your viewing pleasure!"

Mischa's cries suddenly invaded his mind. Things were happening too fast and he felt the control of the situation slipping from his hands, the way his sister had been pulled from them so many years ago. Keeping his voice low he desperately tried to fix things. "Please don't be angry. Her favourite colour was purple, Mischa had blonde hair that smelled like sunshine, touching it felt like silk. Her fingers were pudgy and baby-like. When I was eight, soldiers invaded my family home. They killed my parents and captured us children. They were hungry and I wasn't strong enough, they took her and ate her and I couldn't save her. Please, don't leave. I was wrong. That is all of it, I have nothing but places that hold only emptiness and memories." As he spoke his breaths came quicker. Had he realized he was crying? She sat frozen absorbing all he had said. His sister was eaten? He was so young. Anger melted away and was replaced with a sadness that emanated deep within her.

"You were so young, what could you have done. It wasn't your fault." She didn't try to stop these tears from falling. "I'm not leaving, just, you have to trust me. I'm not something you can bend to fit your will, I think all your other women served that purpose."

Shaking his head he angrily wiped his cheeks. "I was told to look after her and I let her down. The last thing she said before they, before they took her was my name. She called out to me and I couldn't save her. As for you, I don't want to control you, I just, didn't want to do this."

Wishing they were not on a plane she replied, "I told you we didn't have to go. We still don't. When we land we can figure out another plan. Don't tell me it has to do with vulnerability though because I won't believe you. I think you're at that point now. I'm still here. You can hurt me and push me away and I'll still be here. I'm vulnerable too. I...I love you. It doesn't get any more vulnerable then that. I've loved you from the day you first hurt me and slowly picked me apart. When I played passive in hopes you would love me to. When you pushed me away as I tried to get closer. And here I am still loving you when you hardly trust me enough to tell me what happened to you. You're scared? So am I. I think it's normal. But here I am open and vulnerable and still beside you." Struggling to catch her breath she fought to gain control of her emotions. As she spoke he had gone very still. Had she just said she would stay, after he had tried to turn her own mind against her. Following that, did she just say she loved him? Was she waiting for him to do the same? He had went to open his mouth but still she had more to say.

"Don't delude me by saying it back. I know right now you can't. I hope one day you will. As for your family, you know I can understand in some ways. I can't make it better. I'm not stupid enough to think I could ever take that pain away, but if I could take her place..."

"Stop!" The tone of his voice, while not loud enough to draw attention made her do just that. "Do you know, if you break a teacup it will never come back together? Even if you pick up every shard and glue it back, it will never be the same. When you first came to me I thought that in you, I could bring her back. Then the barriers were removed and I've told you, the world is better with you in it. I couldn't stop them from taking her from me, but with you I can try. Allow me to be the selfish one and ask for your strength. I have held on to her for so long now and I need to let her go, but you're right, I can't do it alone."

Looking at him then she knew she would help him. It was as natural to her as taking her next breath. As the plane started to land she looked at him, she wanted nothing more then to wrap her arms around him. "What do you need? How can I help?"

Picking up her hand from her lap he met her eyes. "Don't leave. Let me try to figure out how to...do this with you, help me let her go by allowing me to hold on to you."

As the planes wheels touched down she nodded her head. She would always do whatever she could to give him what he needed.


	9. 9

A/N: I only own the idea

The walk out of the airport and to the car had been a quiet one. For Clarice, she used the silence to recompose herself. Her admission of love had tumbled out of her much like a droplet of water. Once she had started she could not have stopped herself even if she had wanted too. The confession had left her feeling overexposed and vulnerable. A small part of her wished she had held her tongue. Circumstances should have been better for such a revelation. Sighing she mentally shook her head, done was done now, all that was left was to move forward. Wishing she knew where that meant she picked up her pace.

Hannibal had held himself as calm as ever. On the outside he gave little away. If she had not seen his face on the plane Clarice wouldn't have known anything was amiss. Still feeling the sting of his attempt to deceive her she tried to avoid looking at him. To her eyes he was like a magnet however, and she found herself often glancing in his direction.

When they finally reached the car he had went to come around to open her door. Always the gentleman this small gesture made her feel important to him. Today, however, she didn't want to play the game of appearances. Shaking her head at him she stopped him before he could come around. To have him that close to her now would be too much. Uncertain if she wanted to hold him and sob or shake him and scream, she thought it best to just keep her distance. Opening and closing the door herself she waited for him to start the car. He did not.

"It appears I have broken the rose coloured glasses you have viewed me through, my dear. Do you wish to still look? I want to show you what's left of my home, but I feel it would be pointless to do so if you're angry. The drive will be a few hours still, but I need you to advise me what you would like to do. I am at your mercy Clarice, take note as you are the only person I will ever say those words to. I fear I have broken whatever threads you have been trying to string between us, and for that no amount of apology will suffice. If you wish to find a hotel we can, just say the word."

Why couldn't he just shut up and drive? Why did he always turn to her for answers? Frustrated with the tears she could feel rolling down her face she shook her head. From the corner of her eye she saw him run his hands over his face. Was it out of agitation? When she heard his car door open and close she thought he was walking away from her. Unable to watch him walk away she closed her eyes, annoyed with the tears that squeezed from under her lashes.

When her door opened she still did not open her eyes. Cold air on her face attempted to dry her tears but they fell to fast. When he touched her face to wipe them away she still refused to open them, if she looked at him she would be angry, she knew it from how her blood hummed in her vanes.

"Is this how it feels when someone shuts you out?" His words were very quiet as he tucked the hair the wind had freed back behind her ear. "I can see why it bothers you so. Is it to show me how it feels, or is it something else entirely? You're not a open book to me Clarice. I do not know the answers. Are you angry? I can handle your anger, if it will end your pain. That I can not handle. Whatever you need, my dear, take from me now to stop these tears." Again his hand brushed more from her cheeks. Angrily she swatted it off, opening her eyes.

When she looked at him she had wanted to scream at him. To yell and hit and tantrum like a child. It surprised her when a sob escaped her instead. "You," she stammered, "it hurts. Why would you?" When she saw him close his eyes and hang his head her cries cut off her words. How could she be so angry and want to pull him close at the same time?

When he spoke next he did not lift his head. "I'm sorry. I made a mistake and had I known you would be this upset by it I would never have..."

She grabbed him hard then, digging her nails in to his arms. He did not protest. "What if it worked? Would you have changed all the things you don't like about me? When you were finished would there even have been any of me left? Is it because I'm not good enough? Why would you pretend I was when you have just been waiting to make me in to what you want? Why would you do that to me? Damn it Hannibal! I would never change you, not in a thousand years!"

"Nor would I," his words were rough with emotions he struggled to contain. "Is it difficult for you to imagine that in this instance I did not think past the immediate? Panic causes the mind to become unclear. I had only meant for you to not see what's left. It hurts me, and like anyone, I do not walk easily in to a open flame. I was, I am afraid to see it again, to have it all resurface. I'm sorry I hurt you, my dear, my emotions, that you think I control so well, they got the better of me."

When she realized her nails were drawing blood she let go, immediately guilt replaced anger. "I didn't mean to..." but he silenced her words with the shake of his head. Not able to find any more words she pulled him closer. While he knelt beside her open car door her lips kissed every mark she had left on him. When she was finished she lifted her head and placed her hands on either side of his face.

This was not the gentle touch of a lover. As she stared in to him she watched him flinch as she squeezed. When her bones began to thrum with his heartbeat she thought he would pull back. He did not. His eyes held hers as firmly as her hands held his face. Shaking her head she released the pressure, her words coming out as both a plea and a warning. "Never again."

As he looked at her from his knees he nodded, lacking the right words. In that moment Hannibal knew he would never betray her again. He had no doubts that if he were to do so she would walk away. That was something he would not allow to happen.

Swallowing to gather himself he had went to get up. Her hands now gentle on his face had stopped him. Guilt in her eyes, uncertainty of her actions. Memories from that morning reminded him he was now no stranger to these feelings. Touching her wrist softly he stilled her hands. "I am ok, I understand. Where are we going now?"

Letting her hands fall from his face she watched as he stood and brushed off the knees of his pants. As he closed her door and made his way back to the drivers side the realization that he was no longer holding back hit her. Feeling a mixture of fear and anticipation for what was to come, she looked over at him as he settled himself beside her. "If you're ready, I would like to see your home now." When he started the car and nodded his head she wondered if someone could ever be ready to step on hot coals.


	10. 10

A/N: I only own the idea

The drive had stretched out in silence. This was not the quiet that thrummed with unspoken words and awkwardness, however. This was the quiet that followed the clash of two strong willed spirits. As the car approached its destination the bodies that served as their vessels used this time to regroup and centre themselves. Where they were headed would require from them both a inner calm that took most of the drive for them to achieve.

For Hannibal what remained of this place held little meaning to him. It wasn't the physical building but the memories it would unleash upon him that would cause his anguish. It was for that reason he had refused to return for so many years. Even now as they approached what little was left of his once grand home his nose picked up the smell of smoke. In his mind a cacophony of sound and screams. His knuckles went white from how tightly he gripped the steering wheel.

Clarice watched silently as the change came over him, feeling a perverse fascination with how she couldn't pull her eyes away from his face to look at the building. The car had stopped moving and through the window a slight breeze blew. Watching as his nostrils flared, she wonder what his memories were detecting in it. Someone stronger would have looked away to give him his anguish in privacy, but she was unable to do so. In that moment she felt guilty and inadequate because she knew not how to help him. Her voice shook as she spoke. "Hannibal, I don't know what to do. How do I help?"

When he spoke it was as if he had not heard her words. "My mother was beautiful and gentle. Even when flames took her from me it held a haunting beauty. The snow wasn't cold enough to extinguish her, but I tried. It all happened so fast. In my mind at the time I remember feeling so powerless. I remember thinking with my parents gone I had to protect Mischa, then I failed. Please, look at this place now so we can leave. It only holds memories I wish I could forget."

She knew when she looked away he would break. Not able to be so close to him when he did so she stepped out of the car. The wind blew her hair as she looked at the remaines of his family home. Not knowing how it looked before tragedy struck it made it difficult to see as more then the wreckage time had turned it in to. Still she tried. She stared at the structure until it's shape burnt on the backs of her eyes. She drank it in until she felt his arms come around her and his face press in to her hair. When she felt him tremble she twisted so she could hold him.

When a sob broke from him it was the most pain she had felt in her life. Squeezing him tightly she let her hands run over his shoulders and back. She hoped in her caress was the strength he needed to walk away. "I'm here," she whispered as she didn't trust her voice to say any more. When his hold tightened to the point of a dull throbbing pain she ignored it, tilting her head up to kiss his jaw. It was wet from his grief. "I'm here," she said again, her words a little more firm.

The pain in his voice when he whispered her name caused a shudder to run through her. "Clarice," his hands shook as they smoothed her hair. They ran over her body not as a lovers would but in only the way ones would when scrambling for a lifeline. "I need, we need to, please." For once he was scrambling for words and in that moment she hated that she had ever wished for him to do so.

Pressing herself against him she ran her hands over his back again. "It's ok, you're all right. You were only a child, it was not your fault. Let's go, please I don't need to see any more. Let me drive." Her words did not hold a question and he didn't stop her when she took the keys from him. Pushing him gently she led him back to the car. When she looked over her shoulder at what was left of the place that hurt him so, she hoped to never see it again.

Keeping her eyes on the road was difficult. Every time his breath hitched she had to remind herself to keep her focus. When she heard him exhale and swallow she wished she did not know the sound of his tears. As she pulled up to a red light she glanced over at him. He had been looking at her.

"You have no idea where we are going do you?" His question had came out soft with emotion.

"No idea," she said eyes back on the road. "I figured I would just drive until, until you were, until you told me where to go." Her voice started to shake with emotion but she clawed it back down. Breaking down when driving was a bad thing.

"I can drive now," his words were still soft but were starting to sound normal again. She shook her head and continued to drive. "Wasting time and gas is unnecessary, my dear. You have done enough, now pull over and let me drive so you can take care of yourself. That or let me do it for you. That choice is yours, but pulling over this car is not. Do it now."

She wanted to be angry at his demands on her, but she knew he was right. When she found a spot she pulled the car over, letting her forehead gently thump against the steering wheel.

When he spoke next she could feel his eyes on her. "I believe I am ready to lose myself now. You are all I need to hold on to." When she met his gaze she had expected to see desire, but her breath hitched when she thought she saw love.


	11. 11

A/N: I only own the idea

Hannibal watched as her breath had caught. Wanting nothing more than to be closer, he waited for her to get out of the car so he could take them to their accommodations. Sex was nothing new to him, but with Clarice he knew it would be. Never before had he given any emotion to the act. With her it would be both a release and a reset. A flash of anxiety came to him then. He knew the body well and knew it would accommodate, but he still thought the idea of causing her pain to be an unpleasant one. Hearing the car door open he was torn from his thoughts. Gathering himself he made his way around the car and took the wheel.

As he drove she watched his face. No longer a stranger, she could pick up so much from it now. Anxiety perhaps was the cause for the tightening of his jaw, or was it frustration? While she knew him better she would always have more to learn. Sighing softly, her eyes began to drift out the window. Seeing him in so much pain had been incredibly difficult. The ache to help forget then was almost a tangible thing. Remembering when he had told her she wasn't a tool, her cheeks flushed. Tool or not she still longed to comfort him. Did it make her selfish that she wanted his comfort as well?

The feel of sheets against skin was her next conscious thought. Frustrated with herself she realized she must have fallen asleep during the drive. Stupid. She mentally scolded herself. She should have been there for him. Opening her eyes, she had expected to see him, instead there

was only a room. What was in it did not matter. He was not. Putting her feet on the floor she stood to find him. When he had changed her in to the dress all those months ago she flushed with anger. Now, the cause of that flush was entirely different. Would he have looked at her? Would his hands have lingered? She knew he would have been nothing but courteous towards her, but still she entertained the thought. This only made her skin flush more.

When she found him he was sitting very still. In that moment she thought he would make a beautiful statue. When he heard her approach he turned towards her. Unprepared for the uncertainty in his eyes, she scrambled for words. "I'm sorry I fell asleep. I should have been there for you. Why didn't you wake me up? Why are you looking at me like that? Are you ok?"

His answer was almost inaudible. "I wouldn't dare disturb such beauty. You endured a lot today and I thought a rest would do you good."

Looking at him closer now she saw how tired he looked. Feeling foolish for letting her mind drift to physical actions she responded firmly. "What about you, you should have been in that bed beside me. Not out here thinking about things you can not change." The last part came out sounding angry. Her eyes conveyed it was not meant to.

"I wasn't thinking about the past I assure you. As I said I didn't want to wake you and if I had allowed myself in that bed with you I would have."

"Why would you have! Your the only person I know who can undress me without waking me up. Why do you think laying beside me and going to sleep would do so?"

If she had not been so serious with her question he would have laughed. Choking it back he reminded himself she did not talk in innuendos and decided to be forward, "Clarice, I had no intention of sleeping." He watched her face closely waiting for his words to sink in.

"What else would you," she watched as his fingers twitched and realization hit then. "Oh...um...that's um, what!"

A soft laugh that he could not contain then escaped him. She was delightful when she squirmed. Not wanting to offend her with his amusement he spoke carefully. "I don't mean to laugh, you're just so..." he searched for the word.

"Oblivious? Terribly awkward? Inexperienced?" She could have supplied more but he held up his hand to stop her. Letting her words trail off she watched as he shook his head.

"Enticing, beautiful, desirable, terrifying."

"That last one sounds wrong," she said. The want to feel his warmth pulled her closer. Once again his hand asked her to stop. Once again she listened.

"Actually my dear, it fits just right. Are you aware of the ledge on which you stand? I will no longer hold you back from falling. You are not, and never will be, in my control to hold down," as his eyes darkened when he spoke, their meaning was clear, "I would very much like to though."

Her words came out a whisper upon responding, "But you're not going to be able to do that from over there." Her heart picked up speed as blood that it pumped mirrored the desire in his eyes.

"Correct. That is where the last word comes in to play. I have never, done this with..."

"A virgin?" She supplied. "I won't turn in to a pumpkin at midnight, and I promise you don't have to sprinkle me in rose pedals. You're enough, I just want to be close to you." She was happy to see her attempt at a joke was rewarded with a small smile.

"You are no Cinderella Clarice, and an entire garden of roses would not nearly be enough. I hesitate to hurt you. It scares me to think of your bloodshed caused by my wants."

Ignoring his request for her to stay back, she walked up to him. Breath in her words and shaking with nerves she met his eyes with her own. "Our wants." Taking a deep breath for courage she steadied her shaking hand and brought it up to his face. He did not pull back when her fingers ran over his jaw bone. "I don't know how to do this on my own," her hand stayed steady as she began to unbutton his shirt. "I can try, but rumour has it, it's better when two people participate.

She was kissing his collar bone now. He struggled to focus on the words she was saying as her hands ran over his now bare back. Did she know she was torturing him in that moment. A mixture of fear and desire ran through him then. She was sitting in his lap now, legs curled beneath her. Sweet girl, he thought, still so contained. When her arms wrapped around him he felt his control slipping. "Clarice, I can't do..."

Gentle pushes he had told her. Hoping she was doing the right thing she brought her lips to his ear. "Yes you can. It's ok, I'm here and I want this. I want you Hannibal, only you."

The feel of her lips against his ear and breath against his skin had been his undoing. Bringing his arms around her; he shuddered when her legs seemed to naturally wrap around him when he stood to carry her to the bed.

When he stood, her legs wrapped around him out of instinct. As he walked the brief distance to the other room she couldn't help noticing how when she squeezed him with them; waves of pleasure shot through her. When she went to tighten them again he shook his head and put her feet on the ground.

"Don't pout, his voice was full of want as he looked at her then. "Now Clarice, allow me to turn the tables on you. I want to see you now, all of you. If this is acceptable to you, show me."

When he spoke her eyes closed. He definitely would make her float tonight but she knew it wouldn't be with his words. Realizing his eyes were on her she reopened her own. Looking at him then she flushed red. Their was no mistaking what he wanted now. Steadying herself she raised her arms above her head and met his eyes. "come take this off."

She did not need to ask him again. As he removed her nightgown he thought that in that moment time had stopped. The struggle of how to view her first briefly came to his mind. Hands? Eyes? Mouth? Gently pushing her back on to the bed he decided the occasion called for a little of everything.

Falling backwards fully exposed to him, she ached for his hands to find her. It was a short wait however as her body had only just hit the mattress when his lips captured her's. This kiss was different from the last one they had shared. It burned with want and made her body tingle in a way that she guessed only meant good things.

Drawing back his lips, he noted the flush in her cheeks had made its way down to her neck. Kissing her jaw bone as she had done so many times to his own he allowed his nose to rest against the hollow below her ear. Here was the feel of her skin. There was the pulse of her desire. Letting his tongue caress her neck he was flooded in her presence. There was the taste of her flesh.

Every part of her he touched ached for more. Why had he stopped at her jaw? Had that been his tongue on her skin just then? Feeling as though a river was sweeping her away, she brought her arms around his back once more. He was the perfect lifeboat.

When she had again went to pull him closer he drew back, shaking his head. "You're always so eager to have me closer. It is my turn to see you now. Stop trying to pull me down when I have yet to fully appreciate the view my dear." When the flush spread from her neck to cover her breasts he felt his body respond in turn. Moving slowly he lowered his face to them. He knew in that moment that nothing this world could ever offer him would be as delectable as the woman who lay before him.

When he kissed her breasts, she thought in that moment that her skin would combust. Was this another game to him? Would he push, until breaking with want, the request would spill from her lips to satisfy her aching need. Squirming under his mouth, her thoughts trailed away. He was too great of a distraction to allow focus on anything else.

As he lost himself in the feel of her skin and the scent of her arousal, an unexpected thought surfaced. This was love. To let go and surrender to another person, to respond chemically, physically, and spiritually. He had no doubts when he looked upon her, and found she was lost amidst his touch.

He had intended to make his way down her body, but insistent hands were on him again, pulling him up and down. Realizing this was not a battle he wished to fight with himself he allowed her to move him. When she bore her lips against his own he found he had forgotten what the cause of the struggle had been for. When her legs wrapped around his hips he couldn't contain the growl he released into her mouth. Warm against his lips her eager breaths tasted better to him than any wine ever would.

Too many clothes were between them she thought. When she felt the fabric of his pants rub against her sex she wasn't sure if she hated it or loved it. With a few wriggles of her hips she found it would temporarily do. At this point with how excited she was, anything would.

When she moved her hips against him, he bit her lip. When he tasted blood he attempted to draw back. She wouldn't let him however, locking her arms around him. What a delightful way to be captured he thought, as he licked the blood off her lower lip.

"Mm, pants, off..." her words were a jumble against his lips but the meaning was clear. Breaking away from her he quickly removed them. Now any distance was too much. When he felt her eyes on him he looked at her face. There was the timidness. He knew it would come but still felt unprepared for it. Raining in his desire he struggled to find the control to put her mind at ease. When she reached out and began to explore him with tentative fingers he thought he would grind his teeth to dust. "Clarice, beautiful girl, I'm trying to..."

Gently she squeezed feeling him throb under her fingers. "Stop trying, Hannibal." His name had came out barely a breath. Ignoring her thoughts of anxiety about his size, she gently pulled. When his eyes sparked, her body longed to make room.

She literally had him in the palm of her hand, he thought as he resisted the urge to press deeper in to her fingers. Stepping back, he fought to ignore the silent protest in her eyes. "Patience my dear," he whispered lowering himself to his knees between her legs.

"I don't want to...mmm..." her words were broken by a moan as he slid a finger inside. Whimpering with want now she pressed in to his hand. As his tongue touched her skin she shuddered, he felt too good. "Hannibal, stop, I don't want to finish like...I want to feel you, please!"

When she had asked him to stop he had immediately, at first thinking he had been too rough. Understanding as he registered the rest of her words laid his doubts to rest. He couldn't hold himself back any more, not with her on the edge and begging him to dive. Positioning himself above her, his hand cupped her face. "It will hurt, you know?" His words trembled. Had he been referring to himself or her?

Meeting his gaze, her hand covered his own. "I want to be close to you, some things are worth the pain." Something flickered across his face. Was he unsure how to handle her? This was a problem she could solve. Moving from under him she felt him intently watching her. "Let me," she said. Her words came out strong, not reflecting how she trembled on the inside.

When she got up he feared her mind had changed. But with two words however, she extinguished all of his. Always she would surprise him. He could only whisper her name and follow the request she had so clearly given. As he lay back on the bed he made a mental note to tell her that tonight would be a night of many firsts for him as well.

When she positioned herself above him he put his hands on her hips. Would he pull her down? No, they served only to align. Were his fingers trembling, or was she? Trying to calm her nerves she looked in to his eyes.

"I am here," with 3 words he set her at ease and without thinking she bore down on him. Something between a moan and a cry sounded. Was it from her or him? Pain froze her perched on top of him. Then she felt his hands. On her hips, on her face, pushing off the tears she hadn't realized were on her cheeks

"Silly girl, god you're insatiable. You should have took your time, are you all right? Do you want to..." his words died as he felt her hips begin to move, his eyes never left her. Around him he could feel her body begin to adjust. Gazing up at her with admiration he saw the moment when pain turned to pleasure and couldn't stay idle any longer. "Clarice, I want more, this is not close enough."

God it had hurt, like a thousand little knifes inside of her. As she moved her hips however pain subsided, and he fit her just right. When he asked her to get closer she didn't know what more to do. "How?" The question came out a gasp as she couldn't be bothered to hide the pleasure the feel of him inside her was causing.

When he scooted himself in to a sitting position he never left her body. pulling her against him in his lap he began to move his hips, lifting and lowering her down with the motion. A soft whimper escaped her then and he kissed her shoulder. "Is this close enough Clarice?" His voice shook with his approaching release.

Clinging to him she moulded her body to best work with his. Allowing him to support her weight she held tight to every thrust, adding her own downward pressure against his upward motion. "It will never be close enough," she gasped, her nails biting in to his shoulders.

They met each other thrust for thrust until he felt her legs start to tremble. Knowing she was close he picked up his pace. "Don't let go," his words a low growl in his throat.

When she felt him pick up speed she pressed her face in to his shoulder, holding tightly to him as he moved beneath her. Something inside her gave way then and she was pulled down in a undertow of pleasure like never before. Briefly she registered her voice crack as she screamed out his name.

When she let go he was only seconds behind her. One final thrust up took him to ecstasy and he grew suddenly still as his release came. Still able to feel the tremors from inside as he ran his hands through her hair, over her back, anywhere he could to just know she was really there. As she sat panting in his lap he held her tight. Never again would he let her go.

Neither were clear as to how many minutes passed before she started to squirm. Moving slowly so as not to hurt her any more he disentangled their bodies. He didn't have to look to know they were both covered in her blood, he could smell it in the air. A shower was definitely needed. Looking at her face he didn't see the harm in waiting a little bit. Seeing her spent after their coupling was worth being sticky for.

She hadn't felt anything like this in her life. Knowing it was juvenile to say it after what they had just done wasn't enough to stop the words from forming on her lips. "I love you Hannibal."

Hearing her declaration of love, made husky from her cries of passion invigorated him. He thought it to be the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. Touching her face he waited for her eyes to open. When she did he stared in to her soul and gave his in return. "I love you too, Clarice."

Two bodies held tight to one another in a room that would soon be replaced by another. Inside them, their spirits were at last content with the vessels of skin and bone that held them captive. For the briefest of moments, when the bodies were lost in passion, two spirits had became one. For them, it was enough.


End file.
